


Angelito

by bukkunmoonsin (bukkunkun)



Series: The X-Men AU No One Asked For [16]
Category: Goyo: Ang Batang Heneral (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Mutants, Angst and Feels, Based on the short film Angelito, Child Abuse, Heavy Angst, M/M, Missing Scene, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Sad, listen i was trying to be poetic bc angel is named angel and is a literal angel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 11:10:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15971114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bukkunkun/pseuds/bukkunmoonsin
Summary: Oh, God. The emotions the boy felt were more intense when he held him. Just feeling it felt terrible, but here with his hands on Angel’s shoulders, Vicente could feeleverything.Oh, this poor, poor child.





	Angelito

**Author's Note:**

> NOW FEATURING MY NEW LUNASONA ZACHARIAS "CARING" BAGON HIHI 
> 
> hi mga anak my little demonyitos and demonyitas tita's here to hurt naughty children 
> 
> gagi i had to google talaga the lord's prayer im not catholic how should i know this verbatim ksjdlskjl 
> 
> dedicated to androidisme who loves the bernals more than i do and that's saying something

His feet flew over the crunching leaves, his breaths mixed with the way his throat choked around stolen air in his lungs.

He had to run—he had to get away, to warn his brothers.

“Ah!” he nearly fell over, feet sliding over a large browning leaf on the ground, but a column of water shot up from the ground, not unlike the way his big brother would make logs rise from the ground to protect them. He splashed around it in alarm, but he kept running, stumbling forward, as more and more columns of water shot up to his hands to keep him upright.

Breathe, he told himself, breathe deeply.

Fight for your life—run, run far, far away.

He fought back tears that pricked his eyes.

The water he summoned was warm, like the touch of Manuel and José’s hands in his, and he missed them. He wanted to see them again.

He couldn’t do this—but he knew he _should._

 _(Oh, but he was young. So, so young. Cheeks still soft with youth, eyes still sparkling with innocence. He wasn’t supposed to be there. He wasn’t supposed to be_ **_anywhere_ ** _but home.)_

Little Angel didn’t even know he was capable of doing more than just splashing water on José’s face, or watering flowers with Manuel in the early mornings. He didn’t know he could do things like this, control water in the way their father had once did during Bonifacio’s revolution. He didn’t know he could—but he could feel them, his brothers’ hands, guiding him.

_Oh, God in heaven, hallowed be thy name._

He knew Vicente Enriquez. He knew who he marched with.

General Gregorio del Pilar’s name, once upon a time, was not a curse that loomed over his head. It wasn’t a garrotte tightening around his throat. It was a name he revered, he looked up to, as a purportedly brilliant _Mapalad_ boy general, the young man who took Paombong for his own with his unique _Mapalad_ ability.

His name, back then, had meant non-kinetic _Mapalad_ were worth so much more than people credit them for—that you didn’t have to have some form of kinesis power to get along, far ahead from the rest of the world around you.

Angel squeezed his eyes shut.

_Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven._

He knew he couldn’t outrun the might of del Pilar’s men—it was inevitable, the force of God’s will fulfilled like a prophecy uttered by wilting prophets in a time long past. He knew he was just a _child,_ but he wasn’t about to go down without a fight.

Not when the worst possible person that could be chasing him was on his heels right now.

Gregorio del Pilar was scary, for sure—

But right then and there, his older brother Julian del Pilar was _terrifying._

“Go ahead, little boy, run!” the man bellowed, and Angel ignored him, jumping when he heard a gunshot ring through the air. He tripped over some twigs, but he quickly pulled himself up, looking behind him with stuttering breaths to see the man still approaching him as casually as ever, a leer on his face.

Angel swallowed back his fear, the nerves cloying his mind, rotting at his throat and heart.

He threw water at the man’s face. Muddied, covered in the muck of the earth they walked on, and he ignored the man’s indignant spluttering as he ran on.

“You little—!”

He could do this. He _knew_ the older del Pilar wasn’t a _Mapalad._ Here, he had the upper hand in that regard.

Still, what could water do in the face of the unstoppable force that was a bullet?

_Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us._

Maybe he could drown him, a voice whispered in his mind, and Angel felt his blood grow cold. He shivered, but his legs traitorously slowed down, burning with fatigue and screaming from exhaustion.

He couldn’t outrun a bullet.

But he could outrun a corpse.

The difference, after all, between a corpse and a living being, was that only one was worth fearing.

He turned around, and forced himself to face Julian head-on, and he tried not to think about the way the man’s face contorted in a knowing leer.

May God forgive him, he thought. May God understand what he was about to do.

“Giving up already, boy?” Julian snapped, and Angel threw his hands forward to splash the man in the face with more water. The man spluttered, and when Angel’s attention lapsed, so did the onslaught of water on his face.

No matter—Angel sent it forward again.

“You—! What’re you—”

“Go on, waste your breath!” Angel snapped, flooding the man again with water, and only then did he finally understand what he was up to.

“You—” the rest of his sentence was muffled by water, but his gun flashed dangerously, and Angel was back to running, panting heavily as he let his concentration slip to let himself get away.

 _Take deep breaths,_ Manuel’s voice said in his head. Angel squeezed his eyes shut, and he threw out his hand to his side to make a column of water hit Julian in the side, knocking him astray. Angel gasped, turning to look at what he had managed to do, but when he saw the sliver of blue returning from past the bushes, he hurried on, hiding himself in the thick of bamboo foliage, clamping his hand over his mouth to keep himself from making too much noise.

He was shaking, trembling—

He would kill, if he had to. Because he _needed to._

_And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil._

“Where the _hell_ have you gone, you little brat?” Julian’s voice was far closer than he would have liked, and Angel buried himself under more leaves, his breath stuttering and skipping like marbles on chipping glass.

He could do this—he could make it out of there—

His heart shot into his throat when a hand clamped down onto his shoulder, and he was yanked up into the air by a furious-looking Julian.

Oh, it was over. Everything was over.

Adrenaline coursed through his veins, and he opened his mouth to scream, when the man slapped his hand over it to silence him.

Angel’s tears ran down his face, and unbeknownst to him, in the distance, water shot up from the ground to freeze into ice, impaling a little rat unfortunate enough to come close to it.

Neither boy nor colonel noticed.

“There you are.” Julian’s smirk was vicious, despite him dripping wet. “Now, let’s _talk,_ shall we?”

Angel didn’t let himself see the fist flying before it connected.

* * *

Vicente was over the moon as he helped Joven carry his things down to the carriages. He’d bagged a good deal, after all—Goyo would be happy to hear it.

He knew the meek young man he walked next to was _Mapalad_. He could _feel_ it, though he wasn’t a telepath himself. He just _knew_ he was one, the moment he saw him.

Vicente was grateful, and he knew the day couldn’t get any better—

When he felt a sudden wave of nausea, and he stumbled over his own feet. Luckily the trunk he was carrying held Joven’s clothes, and when it crashed to the ground it didn’t split open.

“C-Colonel?” Joven spluttered as the rest of their party hurried to his side, and Vicente winced, clutching his head as suddenly a little boy in white hurried over to them, clinging to Joven desperately. Vicente looked down at him, blinking blearily.

He knew that boy—he was… familiar.

“Kuya,” the boy whispered, and Joven stroked his hair, just as a furious, wet Julian strode into the street.

“That _fucking_ —”

“Colonel.” A hand on his chest, and one of Julian’s lieutenants stopped him from throttling Joven and the boy.

“Caring—”

The young man eyed him evenly, and Julian shook his head. He yanked himself away from the lieutenant and strode over to Joven and the boy, yanking him away from Joven by the collar. Vicente felt the throb of pain and betrayal rush through him, and he realised now that it all came from that one boy.

All that despair, that pain and fear—from a boy far too young to be carrying all those burdens alone.

“Angel Bernal.” Julian spat, tossing the boy at Vicente, and he raised an eyebrow at him. “You okay?”

“I’m.” Vicente winced, and shook his head as he caught Angel, holding on to him more gently than Julian had been.

Oh, God. The emotions the boy felt were more intense when he held him. Just feeling it felt terrible, but here with his hands on Angel’s shoulders, Vicente could feel _everything._

Oh, this poor, poor child.

“Fine.” He bit out, and he looked down at the boy trembling in his hold.

His cheek was swollen, and there was a cut on his forehead. Vicente’s expression tightened, and he stroked the boy’s hair to wipe away all that fear that cloyed his mind and his heart, almost suffocating him. Angel’s eyes cleared up, and he looked up at Vicente with tears blurring his vision.

“I’m sorry.” He said quietly, and the boy deflated.

“Thank you… for what you did to me.” He said quietly, and Vicente cocked his head at him. “I… wouldn’t have been able to calm myself down on my own.”

Vicente had heard about the Bernal brothers from the young man who calmed Julian down. He peered at the two men, the lieutenant helping his colonel saddle with a steely expression, and he deflated slightly.

The Bernal brothers were three young men, all _Mapalad._ President Aguinaldo had told Gregorio to go looking for the brothers by any means necessary, but this…

_This…_

“You _motherfucker,_ hitting a child like that.” He heard Lieutenant Bagon hiss at Julian, and the colonel nudged at him with his foot petulantly.

Vicente’s stomach turned, and he looked away from Angel, too guilty to look at him.

“Listen to me, okay?” He said gently, “I promise, I won’t let him hurt you.”

“That’s what they all say.” Angel replied flatly, and Vicente looked at him with wide eyes. Angel’s eyes were flat, calmer than he had ever seen them, and the boy’s expression didn’t fail.

“Whatever you do to me, I’m ready.” He said, and turned to head to the cart himself.

“Angel—”

“My life is cheap, and I won’t say a word.” He cut him off, and turned to look at Vicente. “Help me up. It’s too high up.”

Vicente blinked at him, and the boy cocked his head at him.

“Well?”

“R-right.” Vicente nodded, and hurried forward to help him.

Joven watched them go with worried eyes, letting himself get herded onto the cart with his uncle by the rest of Vicente and Julian’s party.

“Angel…” He murmured, “I’m so, so sorry.”

There was nothing but Manuel’s steady calmness in Angel’s face. Nothing but José’s crafty determination in his eyes.

Joven knew the youngest of the Bernal brothers was strong, but he still couldn’t help but worry for him. He was just a child— _hell, they all were, children, young, frightened_ —he didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve to see the ravages of war.

Vicente helped Angel up onto the cart, and patted his knee awkwardly before turning to look at Joven. Their eyes met for a split second, and Joven was the first to look away.

The first to miss the way Vicente’s eyes soften on him, before the man nodded and moved away.

Angel watched it all unfold, and he closed his eyes.

 _Kuya Joven,_ he thought, _may God be with you too._

**Author's Note:**

> ~~zacharias is julian and goyo's fubu pag feel nila minsan. no strings attached. kuya siya ni luisa. magkaibang-magkaiba silang magkapatid HAHAHAH pero he's always a good kuya to her aww~~


End file.
